


the less i know the better

by orosea



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, brief r2 and obi wan reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orosea/pseuds/orosea
Summary: But his loyalties do not lie with the Jedi Order.He is attached. To his R2 unit, to his master, his padawan, and most importantly, her. His loyalties, his people, they do not represent the greater good.He is not a senator, she tells herself often enough, on nights were he hisses at her for her recklessness. (He kisses her head later though, and tells her apologetically, "We can’t lose each other." He has lost enough already, she agrees.) He is not a ruler, she tells herself again, those same nights where they are finally alone, tangled together.Her heart is large, but it is not bleeding.





	the less i know the better

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how in-character this is (but they both have pretty broad interpretations of characterization so eh) but i tried and it was just something short i had that i wrote in like 30 min

_The good of my people._ He says and she can taste something coppery and bitter in her mouth. It is not blood, curiously enough. Blood tastes like defeat and what’s brewing in her gut is far from it.

 _Surely you would understand, a senator of the people._ A queen. Her stomach churns at the comparison because how can she truly argue the differences? He’s right. She’s sacrificed lives before, just like had had, and would be willing to sacrifice her own for her people.

Her lips slide into a frown of discomfort, the harsh white lighting of the ship makes her gaze unforgiving.

 _It’s different!_ She snaps. _I would give my life for the good of my people. You wouldn’t understand my duty. What you did? It was not duty, it was foolish!_

He looks affronted. Something hardening behind blue eyes that were once innocent. What has the jedi life done to him?

 _I would die for my cause. I am a jedi, saving people is my duty._  It’s an argument that they sparsely bring up. Because he’s right, he would die for his cause. He should be saving people. 

But his loyalties do not lie with the Jedi Order.

He is attached. To his R2 unit, to his master, his padawan, and most importantly, her. His loyalties, his people, they do not represent the greater good.

He is not a senator, she tells herself often enough, on nights were he hisses at her for her recklessness. (He kisses her head later though, and tells her apologetically, _We can’t lose each other._ He has lost enough already, she agrees.) He is not a ruler, she tells herself again, those same nights where they are finally alone, tangled together.

Her heart is large, but it is not bleeding. She has done things he would never be able to do. Executions, the rationing of food to a nation in war times, voting on bills that can change the entire galaxy. It’s all something he will never do in his lifetime. He has the luxury of being an all powerful jedi, the luxury of being there only when called, answering to people like her.

It’s not something light, she knows. There are days, weeks, months even, where she doesn’t see him. He always comes back a little older, wiser, and more weathered. (He reminds her of Obi Wan on nights like those, destined for infinite sadness, and she begins to wonder if being a jedi is nothing but a selfless endeavor.)

So she concedes. _You’re right._ His jaw sets and his fists clench. _But your cause is nothing more than holding me back from my own. You would never let me sacrifice myself for my own people._

It’s a snarl that escapes her, fueled by nothing but her pent up frustration. Too many times has he endangered the Republic for her, his master, and even a single R2 unit.

 _I would **burn** so my people could keep their democracy._ He flinches at the severity of her tone. She may not trust all of the Republic but this is the world right now, in the very moment, full of sacrifice and betrayal, and he refuses to see it.

Because he is thinking only about his family.

It’s selfish.

She was only fourteen when she carried the weight of a nation on her shoulders. _Be careful_ , she was told as they painted her lips and face, _you are a symbol now, you will represent our nation and its people._ How does he not see that he is the same? A symbol of peace and balance in a universe where it is dwindling.

They have shared tender moments, moments where he talks about his mother, fleetingly, lightly. There are also moments where he actually shares, how lost he is in the Jedi Order he once thought of as his calling.

Her chest hurts for him then, moonlight splayed across them in a warm cradle as she takes his hand in hers.

Sometimes, though, she gets glimpses of something less vulnerable. Something focused, calculated. Glimpses like the one she got today.

An entire squadron. Dead. And yet he had had only asked: “Padmé, are you okay?” Her eyes linger on the fallen troopers behind her. He had forgone his duties for her. Her eyes shift to the dead assassin at her feet, a hole seared into his chest.

She has been reduced to a bargaining chip. Something the separatists can just take and dangle in front of him. The worst of all, it works, he leads a charge onto a ship full of weapons and droids, slicing through robots and men alike. Just for her. And he would do it again.

So they stand, surrounded by the stench of death, and it marks the first time Padmé truly sees the conviction behind Anakin’s eyes.

She’s not sure if it scares her.


End file.
